You Make Me Sick
by Lizzleby
Summary: Pleasure, pain, self-loathing... I can’t stop myself, the way I come back to him. Why do I love this so much? - StarscreamxMegatron, told from Starscream's POV. It's angsty and sexual. -...every time you read and don't review, part of my soul dies. :3-


**A/N**: The song "You Make Me Sick" by Egypt Central was what gave me inspiration for this. It just screams StarscreamxMegatron to me, so I had to write something that portrayed it.

Smut, plug&play (sort of), sticky.

Borrowed the song title 'cause I'm unoriginal. xD;

I neeeed reviews! Please, guys, it pains me to not know what people think. No flames, please.

These are the time measurements I use: nanoklik = approx 1 second; cycle = 1 hour; klik = approx. 1 minute; astrosecond = only a little longer than a nanoklik, but not 2 full seconds.  
**Pairing**: StarscreamxMegatron  
**Rating**: M for the smut. 8D (Sorry if you don't approve of erotica; I, personally, think they'd have a sexual relationship.)  
**Universe**: Unspecified, so you can imagine it in whichever one is your favorite. 8D

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Pleasure, pain, self-loathing... I can't stop myself, the way I come back to him, the sobs he tears from my vocal processor with every thrust. He's rough, always, about _everything_, caring more for himself than for me. So why do I love this so much? Pain has become my pleasure. Pleasure has become my pain. I can't distinguish between the two, not with him, not anymore.

It's over, as quickly as always, and he turns away from me. I pick myself up off the floor, refusing to look at him. My very spark seems to swell with the hatred I feel towards him, but now is not the time to act upon it.

Silently, I leave. He doesn't stop me. He never does. I return to my quarters and finish what he started before going into recharge. It's the only time I can really escape my own processor, though I dare not stay offline too long. He's not opposed to finding me and forcibly waking me up.

---

When I wake again, it's with a determination so fierce it blazes through my circuits, kindling a fire I feel only in the midst of battle. Almost disturbingly appropriate.

It seems like in the shutter of an optic I find myself standing in his command room, null ray aimed at his chassis. How many times have we found ourselves here? I don't know. It's so routine...but today will be different. I feel it.

He reads me like an online data pad, smirking confidently. His crimson optics glow in the dim light, and I feel my hatred swell, threatening to burst forth. It must be written all over my faceplates; I can feel myself scowling at him even as he taunts me with my own thoughts.

"How many times have we found ourselves here, Starscream?" he asks, softly. Primus how I hate that snobbish accent, that conceited lilt to his words.

I refuse to answer him, and he goads me again.

"Let me guess... You're here to kill me?" Silence. "To offline me for good?" Silence. He scoffs, does nothing to try to prevent it. In fact, he appears to make himself more comfortable in his throne-like chair.

Finally, I reach my breaking point. I can't contain it anymore. I begin to scream at him, furiously; his look of surprise only eggs me on.

"I hate you! You make me sick, so _sick_! I hate this—this fragging _hold_ you have on me!" I stop myself, reign in my vocal processor. Screaming won't help. "I hate you. I..." Hesitation. Should I admit this? Probably not...but I feel like nothing will change if I don't. He must know the whole truth. "I love what we do, but I hate it." Rage builds up in my spark once more. I'm screaming again, almost incoherently; I can't hold it in, can't stop myself from repeating words I've already said. "I hate _you_. You make me _sick_! Primus, I'm not dealing with this anymore!"

I charge my null ray and fire of a shot before he can so much as twitch. It hits him square in the chassis...but doesn't do much, only leaves a small hole. Not even enough to see his spark chamber, much less penetrate it.

There's a nanoklik of silence, heavy on my audio processor. And then he starts to laugh.

Not for long—no, Megatron is never one to show amusement for long. But it's more than a chuckle, and the fact that he can laugh in my face like that seems to deflate me. No longer do I feel that fire burning in my spark. Now I just feel the urge to leave, to fly away. I back up, and I'm almost out of the room when he calls out to me.

"Starscream." I stop. Shudder. His tone holds promises...promises I learned long ago that he always keeps. My back is to him, and I feel vulnerable, but I can't make myself turn around.

I do not return to him. He comes to me. I find a small amount of satisfaction in that, but it's obliterated as I feel his servo on my wing. He grips it, hard, and I'm unable to suppress my whimper or the tremble that wracks my frame. I feel him smirk, see it in my processor's optic. Then suddenly his arms are around me, his chassis pressed to my back. I feel his mouth at my audio processor, hear as he whispers in my ear.

"You say you love what we do..." His servos are touching my hips, places he's marked as sensitive before. I know he's driving his point home. "So then why, I ask, do you hate it?" His fingers trail up, over my waist, almost tickling. "You are rewarded for your obedience, Starscream... I could kill you."

Suddenly, his servo is _in_ my chassis, smashed through my cockpit. I feel his fingers wrap around my spark chamber and I shudder again. Though my pain is overwhelming, my processor threatening to offline, I make no noise. He's testing me, waiting for an excuse to do as he's threatening. I can't stop my trembling, though, and he continues to _purr_ in my audials.

"I could...so easily. But I never do. You continue to disobey, to attempt to thwart me…" He fingers tighten the slightest bit. A spasm shakes my body against his. "Yet I keep you online. I believe the least you could do is return the favor." His lips move to the cords of my neck, finding my sweet spots and teasing them for a few astroseconds, making the test harder. Then he's whispering in my audio processor again, sweetly, gently, his tone belying the tight hold he has on my very life. "Don't you?"

I don't say anything. I almost wish he would kill me and end it. But I can never tell him this. I refuse to give him that satisfaction...and I refuse to give up my dream of ruling the Decepticons for him.

His fingers tighten again and I arch forward, biting my glossa to keep from making noise. Slowly, I nod my head the slightest bit. As soon as I do, I hear his cooling fans kick in.

"Good Starscream," he says softly. He takes his servo out of my chassis, slowly, being sure to scrape against all the raw wires and metal. Again he contradicts his words. He always has, with me.

Suddenly I'm staring into his optics. I see that he's smirking again, that dark predatory look on his faceplates. It sends a chill through me that has nothing to do with my own cooling fans whirring to life.

He throws me into a wall roughly. The test is over and I'm free to cry out, but I don't. My wings scrape the uneven stone and my helm hits it, dazing me slightly. Megatron takes advantage of this and links my servos together with a pair of stasis cuffs. Where did those come from? I can't help but groan. He knows I hate them, hate being able to feel everything, to hear, see, speak, but not move of my own free will. This must be further punishment. Perhaps he truly is getting fed up with my assassination attempts…

I know what's coming. This, too, is routine. But it still registers as a slight shock when he thumbs open a few panels, exposing ports, and connects himself to them. He does this—opens an interfacing link—whenever he feels the need to really mess with my head. The mixed emotions, his hate, his lust, my disgust, my lust, they drive me a little more insane each time. And he knows this. That's the whole slagging point.

Suddenly, I find myself pinned between him and the wall. He's got his hands on my wings, holding me up, his slightly damaged chassis pressed against my ruined one. The strain on my wings is great, bringing enough pain—or is that pleasure?—to make me whimper. His lips are on my neck, dentals nipping away at every sensor node he can find, glossa flicking out to soothe them every time he bites down a little too hard. I still do my best to remain quiet, to fight back the heat slowly building in my body, and I can feel his frustration through the link.

"You were designated 'Starscream' for a reason, Seeker," he growls, sending a shiver through the struts in my back.

Slowly, his servo begins to creep toward the hole in my chassis, and fear spikes within me. I feel the pleasure he gains from it, and the hunger to terrorize me more. I give in. I whimper again, louder than before, and shudder almost violently when his fingers brush the edge of it. Fear spikes again—will he do it anyway? I feel him smirk against my neck and slowly, the servo returns to my wing.

He takes his time tonight, touching me with an expertise only he can achieve, for only he knows my body this well. He's learned every one of my sensitive spots, and he uses them to his advantage until the noises I make are half-formed pleas. I hate myself for begging to him, but I need the release; I can feel lubricants leaking out of the seams of my pelvic armor, my cord straining against the heated metal.

It's only after nearly a cycle of his teasing touches, several kliks of my half-afted pleading, that he steps back. I slump to the floor, still connected to him through a select few cables. I'm still paralyzed by the cuffs, but I can see enough to know that he is removing his codpiece. Then he crouches down and unclasps mine before standing again. I give a choked sob when he uses my wing as a handle and hauls me to my peds. Once again, my pain makes him more excited; I feel his lust spike. He won't last much longer. With practiced ease, Megatron locks my legs around his hips, slips my cuffed servos around his neck.

I whimper when I feel him rubbing the tip of his cord against my valve, but he refuses to enter me. I feel as if my processor is being split in two by his teasing, and my half-formed pleas rise to my lips once more, my optics dimming. His need continues to rise; he does nothing to keep it from resounding over our link, but does nothing to quench it, either. He's good at controlling himself.

"Say it," he growls. I whimper. He pushes just the _very_ tip of himself inside and repeats the demand.

Finally, after he stills completely and the only pleasure I'm feeling is the echoes of his, I grind out, "Please...Lord Megatron... Take me." He waits. It's another few astroseconds before I can force myself to whisper, "I need you."

He breaks. I don't know if it's my actual words he gets off on, or the utter disgust I feel with myself, but I hear him groan and feel a surge of pleasure through the connection just as he plunges into me, and what little control I had shatters. I scream out, helpless to squirm and writhe as I so want to. My optics offline, my defenses fall. He can do anything to me now, and I'm helpless to stop it.

This is what he was trying to achieve.

And this is what he succeeds in doing to me every time.

I enjoy the first few kliks of him thrusting into me, hard and fast, lips, glossa, and dentals attacking my neck, his soft groans laced with static in my audio processor. Our pleasure combines, rebounding in waves through the connection, until I lose track of what is mine and what is his.

Then, suddenly, that self-loathing comes back, killing my pleasure. I grit my dental plates, forcing myself to keep making noise, hoping he's too wrapped up in his feelings to notice mine have vanished. If he feels the need to stop in the middle of interfacing because I'm not up to par, I pay for it dearly.

Once again pain sparks through me, exciting me just a little. My wounded chassis crackles with the energy in my body, screams in pain as ruined plates rub against each other. My cries become pained, all enjoyment gone, and Megatron groans loudly before speeding up. He gets off on my pain; this is something I learned when our _routine_ started.

He seems determined to make me overload tonight, however. One servo drops from my wing and wraps around my cord, pulling in time with his thrusts. Pleasure anew rolls through me, and I moan. Louder and louder my cries become as once again we combine, feeling the same thing, losing ourselves in one another. I wish desperately that I could arch my back struts, but Megatron is going to keep me imprisoned; he likes the control too much.

It isn't long before his thrusts become uneven, his grip tighter in my cord as he fists me with an almost furious pace. It's too much; I overload first, screaming wordlessly, and that triggers his release. I feel him empty his fluids into me, and my own coat both of our abdomen plating. I don't know how long we rode our pleasure, but neither of us offline, each too wary of what might happen in our defenselessness.

Slowly, as the ticking of cooling metal breaks the silence, Megatron pulls away from me. He pulls out of my valve, disconnecting his cords at the same time, leaving me alone—stranded—in the revulsion that's slowly building up in my spark. His servos leave my wings and I slump to the floor where he kneels down in front of me. His optics meet mine, and a smirk turns up the corners of his mouth.

"You know things will never change, Starscream," he says, tone condescending as he uncuffs me. "You, weak, pathetic coward that you are, will never kill me. You might as well learn to live with this."

Then he stands, replaces his codpiece, and walks away, presumably to go clean himself up. I remain where I am, huddled on the stone floor, damaged and exposed.

I hate it. It makes me sick, but I can't stop myself, the way I come back to him.


End file.
